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a journal of literature & art

The Literary Review

Issue 9         Page 65

Scratching

You’ve been raking on my mind again

scratching at my nerves

time to clear the twig and branches

I’ve been raking over you

scratch, scratch, scratch

pull and tug

smack and pull

smack and tug

Belmont Stakes

All contents that enter the racetrack

must be in a container smaller than 12 inches

or contained in a clear plastic bag.

The patrons brought their contraband

in clear containers

they played the game

but these gamblers and thieves

make their own rules.

Sandwiches wrapped in saran

contain two pieces of hero bread

around water bottles filled with vodka,

others brought in Sprite bottles

filled with chardonnay

for a gambling diehard

buying a $180 seat,

in the grandstand near the finish line,

may be expensive,

maybe they can’t afford:

$25 for a flute of champagne

$15 for a glass of wine

$10 for a 20 ounce beer.

I was a guest at this party

looking in.

© Ann Privateer- image 1

Abecedarian Affair

As if it’s a dream, she

begins a friendship

cherishes a kiss

dances with smoke rings and fire.

Evenings when the lonely,

fiendish

ghouls in her

head arrive, she becomes a flirt.

Intense conversation,

just a harmless

kiss?   Foolishly she

let’s him view her vulnerabilities,

memories, sad stories, alone at

night, lusting under the moon she

opens her heart

pours out her soul.

Quest to find love,

requires a clear

sound mind, which she gives up

tonight. She remembers a time

under a summer sky a

Valentine love

waltzing on the cliffs of the Heights.

X-rays can’t see her open wounds.

Yearning, she paces, a lion trapped in a cage at the

zoo.

Painting Demons

Late night she becomes a superhero

surrounded by paints and brushes

reaching out to an artist friend

they cut skin together.

Art is where the soul

lives naked.

Words can dance

fool a reader.

In paint, the soul is raw.

Tragedy is thrown on canvas.

Words can’t describe it.

Cutting skin releases

intricate, fragile demons,

filled with desire.

Taunting voices permeate his ink

calling her to the edge.    

She needs his art.

She will buy tragedy.

Intricate, fragile demons,

filled with desire.

Stencil Art Opening

Banksy is in the room

artists shake hands

I am painter new-bee

surrounded by graffiti artists and fans

Mickey pours blue liquid

from a flask into a plastic cup

as I drink rationed Budweiser

the crowd heats up the tiny room

I’m given a lesson on stretching canvas

Growing Pains

Astronomical charts

Born under a moonless sky

Cosmos ignited the pyre.

Daddy said it was so hot 

Earth could’ve been on fire.

Funny how we let

Ghosts of childhood

Hideout in bedroom closets.

Instagram photos record our

Joyride. Tinder

Kindles our relationships.

Linger longer, look at the mars

Moon before

Night rolls to dawn.

Oxygen in our blood.

Purple galaxies and meteorites: our thirst.

Revolving on this planet

Synchronicity brings us

Together in one

Universe tilting this

Vex of harmony.

Weekend warrior extracting

Xenon from the night sky

Your lantern is fueled by yellow

Zinnia flowers.

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